Portal
by ordlas
Summary: Why was the house on the Sound put on the market? Christian learns the reason, with profound ramifications for him and his family.
1. Perfect Fifth

_Middle C_

rrrrmmmmrrr…

_Middle C_

mmmm…no…wha..huh…

_Middle C, G_

Huh? Wha? I open my eyes and look at the alarm clock; it says 2:30. I shake my head to clear it and look at the other side of the bed; Anastasia's sleeping soundly there.

_Middle C, G_

What the fuck? Who the fuck is playing my piano? And playing it at 2:30 in the morning! I check again and Ana's still sleeping so I quietly slip out of bed, trying not to wake her. I head downstairs to the music room; as I cross the balcony I look over it at the living room. No one is there but as I approach the stairs I hear the notes again.

_Middle C, G_

In spite of my concern, the notes bring back the memory of my music theory lessons with Miss Kathie. I remember her explaining how those notes form a perfect fifth, also called a dominant interval. Later in life, when I learned another meaning of the word "dominant," it felt as if I'd been anointed by destiny. I never used my middle initial after that.

These memories flash through my mind in a millisecond and I push them aside as I cautiously approach the music room. I stand at the entrance and look around. The lights are off but there's ambient light from the huge windows; it doesn't look like anyone's here. I slowly walk over to the piano; the first thing I notice is that the keyboard is uncovered. I always cover the keyboard after I'm done playing. Perhaps Gail forgot to cover it after she cleaned; I make a mental note to ask her about it at breakfast. I turn around, giving the room a full three-sixty degree scan; nothing looks amiss so I walk back to the door to turn on the lights. Before I get to the switch, I feel something lightly brush the back of my neck. Startled, I spin around the room but see nothing.

I quickly reach over, turn on the lights, and slowly do another scan. When I turn back to the door, I jump. Taylor's standing there.

"Is everything okay, sir?"

"I don't know. Did you by any chance hear the piano playing a couple minutes ago?"

"No, sir. The first floor motion sensor alerted me and I came here to check it out."

"Interior or exterior?"

"Interior, sir."

"I see. I want to go to the command room right now and check the video monitors."

"Yes, sir."

I go back to the piano and cover the keyboard, then turn out the lights in the music room. Taylor and I walk the distance to the command room, situated right next to his living quarters. All the exterior cameras show no human presence. They're set to record twenty-four hours of video so I ask him to rewind back to the last two hours. We review the video for each camera and there is still no evidence of human activity.

"Are you looking for anything specific, sir?" he asks after we've finished watching the replay from the last camera.

"Yes, any sign that someone's entered the house, the music room in particular." At this point I'm starting to doubt my senses but I know what I heard. It was real. On the other hand, the cameras don't lie.

"It doesn't look like it, sir."

"Thank you, Taylor. Let me know if you get any other alerts."

"Will do, sir."

On my way back to the bedroom I check on Teddy, just to make sure he's all right, although I'm sure the baby monitor would have awakened Ana. He looks fine, much to my relief. It's hard to believe he's a year old already; he's growing like a weed. I look down at him and my heart just about bursts with love. He looks so beautiful sleeping in his crib, I want to scoop him up and hug the crap out of him but I refrain. A few light strokes on his stomach will have to suffice until he decides to wake up on his own.

As I get back into bed, I look over at Anastasia. She's still sleeping soundly and I lean over and kiss her gently on her temple. Motherhood has filled out some of her features a little but she still looks like the goddess she was when I married her. I feel like I'm the luckiest man on the planet.

Lying back down on my side of the bed, I decide that what I heard must be a by-product of stress - either that or an exceptionally vivid dream. It's after three so I think I'll try to get at least another hour of sleep before getting up for the day.

When I return from my morning run, Gail, Ana, and Teddy are all in the kitchen having breakfast, or rather, Gail and Ana are trying to make sure Teddy has his breakfast. He seems to be wearing his food as much as eating it and the entire area around his high chair looks like a Rorschach test. Cheerios, yogurt, and bananas are everywhere.

Gail starts getting my breakfast ready but I tell her to hold off. I take over the feeding from Ana and tell her, "Eat! Your food's getting cold. I got this." She willingly turns to her meal and I start trying to coax my son to take more of the food in his mouth and less on his clothes. Let's see if the airplane game does the trick.

"Teddy Tower, Tango Romeo Golf on final for runway one! rrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" I make engine noises as I zoom the spoon straight towards his face but at the last minute I pull it up, away from his mouth.

"Teddy Tower, Tango Romeo Golf declaring a missed approach! RRRRRRRRRRRR!" and he lets out a shriek as the spoon goes over his head. He's waving his hands as if trying to bring the spoon back.

"Teddy Tower, Tango Romeo Golf on final for runway one! rrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" I say once more as I zoom the spoon towards him. This time his mouth is wide open and I gently unload the spoonful of baby glop in it.

We continue this way until he's finished. Ana's done with her breakfast by now so she takes him in her lap and plays with him while I eat my breakfast. As Gail walks away, I ask her, "Gail, did you cover the piano keyboard after cleaning it yesterday?"

"I'm sure I did, Mr. Grey. Was there a problem?"

"When I checked it this morning, the keyboard was uncovered."

"I'm sorry. I'll make doubly sure I cover it when I clean today but I'm almost positive I covered it yesterday."

"That's fine. Ana, do you know if anyone was in the music room at all yesterday besides us?"

"I'm pretty sure not. What's this about, Christian?"

My wife has enough on her mind so I decide not to tell her everything about my morning excursion right now. "Nothing important, I just found the keyboard uncovered when I went into the music room this morning. It's not that big a deal, I've just always made it a routine to cover it when I finish playing so it surprised me to find it uncovered."

She turns to our son and asks him in a fake serious tone, "Teddy, did you go downstairs and play on daddy's piano this morning?"

"Guuu!" he responds, "grblbl grblbl grblbl"

"Well," she looks at me, "he says it wasn't him."

"Okay, I'll just admit I forgot. Turning thirty must have made me old and forgetful. On to other business. What's everyone got planned for today?"

* * *

The day passed with the usual crises facing a huge conglomerate like GEH. Having had an interrupted night's sleep, I felt somewhat cranky but I tried not to take it out on the staff. I think I succeeded. I'm on my way home, looking forward to dinner and a couple of glasses of wine with my wife, and after that, a nice quiet evening with her and Teddy. Maybe we'll take a walk along the coast. With sunset being so late right now, there'll be plenty of time after dinner to do that.

As Taylor pulls into the driveway I see Elliot's and Kate's Escalade parked there. So much for a quiet evening alone with my family, unless they're just leaving, which I doubt. I get out of the Audi and go inside. No one's there to greet me but I hear voices coming from the terrace. I also smell meat being grilled and my stomach starts to rumble.

As soon as I set foot outside, Elliot's there, pushing a bottle of beer in my hand. "Hey, little bro! Welcome to our impromptu barbecue!"

"Thanks! And to what do we owe this dubious honor?"

"Christian!" Ana scolds, "be nice! They brought steaks and Elliot's doing the grilling. Just sit back and relax!" She comes over to me and starts taking off my tie. I grab her around the waist and roll her into a deep dip and an even deeper kiss.

"All right, you two, don't make me use the garden hose on you!" Kate comes through the entrance from the family room with a tray of salads in her hands.

The banter continues throughout the meal. Even though I was hoping for a quiet evening with Ana, it feels good being suburban married couples with my brother and sister-in-law. When I really think about that, I'm amazed. Before I met Ana, a life like this was never even on the radar and now, here I am, thoroughly enjoying every minute.

When they finally leave, it's too late for a walk on the coast. Teddy's getting cranky and Ana looks like she's wiped out. I hope she's not too wiped out but I'll find that out soon enough. After putting Teddy in his crib, we decide to spend what's left of the evening in the master bedroom. She turns on the tv and we settle on the love seat in the sitting area to finish off the bottle of wine we started earlier.

One of the interesting things about family life, or maybe it's just married life in general, is that finding time for sex becomes more of a challenge. Between two high-powered careers and a child, even if the opportunity is there, sometimes the desire is not. I'm careful to read Ana's frame of mind and while I try my best to persuade her (and frequently I'm successful), if she's obviously not in the mood, I don't force her.

As we're sitting there watching the news, I gently start massaging her shoulders. Soon I hear moans of pleasure emanating from deep in her throat. Using the remote, I switch off the tv and turn on the sound system. Strains of John Tesch emanate from the speakers placed around the room, softly so as not to drown out the baby monitor.

The massage gradually turns into a gentle disrobing and soon we're naked on the love seat, arms entwined, our tongues exploring each other. Suddenly, out of the blue, I look into her eyes and whisper "Anastasia, I want to put another baby in you."

Holy fuck! Where did that come from? I'm just getting used to being a father to one child, how the hell will I handle two? I can't believe I just said that to her!

And I'm even more surprised by her response. "Yes, Christian! I want to carry your child again."

She didn't go back on the pill after childbirth so we've been using condoms. Much as we both dislike them, between hormonal fluctuations and breastfeeding, shots or pills were not an option.

I stand up and carry her to our bed. The enormity of what we're about to do, creating another life, almost overwhelms me but it feels right. I want this and it seems Anastasia does too. I explore her body, slowly, sensuously, making absolutely sure she's ready, a task I love. When she gives me the signs that I've learned to read so well, I bury myself in her depths. Entering her without any barrier between us is indescribable; I've missed this feeling so much. We cling to each other, as close as two people can ever be, and when the moment is right, we both let go.

"I love you, Anastasia."

"I love you, Christian."

Even though we're sated, we're still cognizant of the fact that we both have obligations tomorrow. Reluctantly, we part; there's always a moment of sadness for me when I leave her. I roll over so I'm in back of her and we spoon. After a few minutes I fall into a deep sleep.

Until…

_Middle C, G_


	2. Christian

No…wha…huh

_Middle C, G_

NO! I bolt upright from the bed and look at the clock. It says 2:30, just like yesterday. I look over and Anastasia is sleeping soundly.

_Middle C, G_

Shit! It's happening again. I slip quietly out of bed, grab my iPhone, and head downstairs, right to the music room. After turning on the light, I see that the keyboard is uncovered. I thoroughly scan the whole room. No one is here. Walking to my right, I thoroughly check every chair, bookcase, table, every piece of furniture, all the way around the room. Nothing else has been moved, as far as I can remember. No one is here. While I stand there and ponder this, a sudden draft of cold air blows through my hair. What the fuck?

I look up at the ceiling, looking for the air vents but there are none up there, just a ceiling fan, the blades of which are moving almost imperceptibly. This is making no fucking sense at all. I go over to the windows to see if they might be slightly ajar but no, each one is securely locked.

I debate calling Taylor but since nothing is visibly wrong, I decide not to wake him. In a few hours, after my workout, I'll go over the video tapes with him, although I suspect they'll show absolutely nothing. Scanning the room again as I walk to the door, I assure myself again that no one is here and leave.

As I did last night, I make a stop by Teddy's room and verify that he's okay. There's something so reassuring about watching my son sleep in his crib. Just the very fact of his existence somehow makes me feel that everything will be all right. I kiss his little forehead and tuck his blanket in a little better.

Back in bed, Anastasia's still asleep but I lay back on my pillow with my hands behind my head and stare at the ceiling. What the fuck is going on here? Am I the only one who hears the notes? They've obviously not wakened Anastasia, and women, especially new mothers, are supposed to be much lighter sleepers than men. I'd say it's some new type of dream or nightmare but the uncovered keyboard somewhat negates that idea. It's possible Gail's forgotten again but I really doubt she'd do that twice, especially after being called out on it. And I definitely haven't played in the last twenty-four hours.

Then I think of yesterday, when I thought I felt something brush my neck, and just now, when I felt the cold draft. If I were so inclined, I could say they were some kind of ghostly manifestations but I never believed in that sort of mumbo-jumbo. I've always been extremely pragmatic, a true believer in science and that which can be empirically proven. There's got to be an explanation. While this house is not that old, there are still bound to be some strange airflow patterns, considering the size of the place.

With these thoughts whirling around and around my brain, I eventually get sleepy. I turn on my side and snuggle up to my wife. Whatever's going on here, as long as she and my son are safe, that's all that matters.

* * *

As expected, when I review the tapes with Taylor, no one shows up around the premises. He also shows me that the interior motion sensor did not go off last night, unlike the night before. I'm thinking of asking him to set up a camera in the music room but decide against it. Also as expected, when I ask Gail about the keyboard, she assures me that she closed it. Gail's not a liar; she wouldn't be in my employ if she were. This is feeling more like something to do with my mental state and if that's the case, a Flynn session is in order.

In spite of all the things happening at the office, I do something today that I haven't done since my college days – I take a nap. After all the drama of the morning, both at home and here, and an excruciatingly long and boring lunch with two city council members, I just need to close my eyes for half an hour. I lock the door to my office, tell Andrea to hold my calls, and lie down on the couch.

I no sooner close my eyes when I wake up on the floor with Taylor standing over me and shaking me. "Wake up, sir!" he's telling me, "You were having a nightmare." Shit! So much for afternoon naps. He tries to help me stand up and I angrily brush him off. I see Andrea standing in the doorway with a couple people behind her and I bark at her to get out and close the god damn door. Fuck! The fact that Taylor's here could only mean that they heard me screaming and called him. Shit! Shit! Shit! No one outside my immediate circle has ever known about my night terrors. If word of this leaks out to the gossip rags I'll have everyone's head on a platter. Just one of the reasons I make employees sign an NDA.

As if this day couldn't get any worse, I get a call from Anastasia; she's got some big author meeting tonight and won't be home until very late. When she tells me this, I bark at her too and immediately apologize. I've got to get a grip! As soon as I hang up I call Flynn and set up an appointment for tomorrow. I don't know what's going on with me but I'm hoping the wise doctor can give me some insight.

When I finally get home after the interminable afternoon, I tell Gail that Teddy and I will have our dinner out on the terrace. She offers to help feed him but I decline. Sitting outside in the cool evening, with the beautiful view of the Sound in the distance, and my son cooing happily beside me, I feel the day's stress roll off me and out to sea. Teddy and I talk about how our days went but it's pretty much a one-sided conversation.

After dinner I decide to take the walk that I didn't take yesterday. I pack Teddy into the Baby Björn, grab my walking staff, and head across the lawn to the trail. I'm very careful climbing down (the main reason I use the walking staff) and take off at a brisk pace when we get to the water's edge. The weather's great, the water's calm, the whole ambiance makes me burst into song and I start singing The Happy Wanderer, much to Teddy's delight. It's just me and my buddy out for an evening's hike.

After going out for about half an hour I turn back. While I'm still moving along at a good clip, my pace isn't as brisk as when we started. I look ahead at the top of the cliff where the house is, and it looks like Anastasia's standing there. I wave but she doesn't wave back. Strange. I look down to watch my steps on the path and when I look back up, she's gone. Very strange.

Perhaps she had as shitty a day at work as I did and decided to come home earlier than planned. When I get back to the house I look for her on the terrace but she's not there. I go into the house and call for her but she doesn't answer. I call Taylor and ask if he knows where she is; he takes a moment, then tells me she's still at Grey Publishing. Sawyer's there and told him she hasn't gotten out of her meeting yet. What the fuck?! Taylor asks if I want him to relay a message to her and I tell him no, that's okay, I was just checking.

Teddy's starting to get restless so I take him upstairs for his bedtime. After bathing him and putting on his jammies, I sit in the rocking chair and sing Brahm's lullaby to him. Before I even finish the song, he's out, sound asleep, and I tuck him into his crib. I turn on the baby monitor, turn out the light, and head down to our bedroom. Halfway down the hall, I hear it again.

_Middle C, G_

Fuck! I go racing downstairs to the music room. It's nighttime now and the room is dark. I switch on the lights and look around. The fucking keyboard is uncovered again but there's still no one here. As I did earlier this morning, I walk a complete circuit around the room. Nothing's out of order. I stand by the piano but don't feel any air currents, cold or otherwise. I slam the keyboard cover down. I think I am seriously losing it and wonder if maybe I should call Flynn now for an emergency session. After mulling that over for a few seconds, I decide a glass of scotch might be a better option right. I go to the door, turn out the lights, and take a step.

_Christian_

I jump, flip on the lights, and spin around, all in one quick move. No one's here. No. One's. Here. But someone said my name. Maybe Anastasia's home and she's calling to me. I rush out of the room, calling her name, but there's no answer. Once again I call Taylor. He assures me that she's still at the meeting.

It's definitely scotch time right now. After checking on Teddy again and getting the baby monitor, I go to the sideboard in the living room, pour myself a couple fingers of Dalmore, and head out to the terrace. I start a fire in the fire pit and pull a chaise longue close to it. Sipping my scotch, thoughts of the last couple days creep into my mind and I chase them out. To help me do that I take out my iPhone and text Ana.

**love you xxx**

I go through the pictures of her and Teddy that I have stored and in a few seconds I get a text back.

**love you too, be home soon xxx**

The scotch and the fire are taking effect; pretty soon I'm feeling cozy warm, inside and out. As I recline in the chaise I look up and contemplate the stars. Life is just so good right now; yes, there may be some shit going on, but I'll get it sorted out. I always do.

Fingers touch the top of my head and I almost jump out of the chaise. I hear a familiar giggle and am instantly calmed. I must have dozed off since I didn't hear her approach.

"Mrs. Grey, you almost gave your husband a heart attack."

"Mr. Grey, with all the working out you do, you must have a heart of iron by now." She comes around, I pull her on top of me, and give her a long wet kiss.

"Mmmm, you feel so good after such a crappy day," I murmur in her neck.

"Mmmm, you do, too," she murmurs back, "shall we continue this upstairs?"

"Let's," I reply as we get up. I extinguish the fire, finish my scotch, and take her hand, carrying the baby monitor in my other hand. After entering the living room, I firmly lock the doors behind me. Taylor usually does a security check around eleven-thirty but it doesn't hurt to make sure. Before we go up the stairs, I tell her to wait a second and I go into the music room. The lights are still on, like I left them, and the keyboard cover is down. I almost feel like taking a picture of it, just to reassure myself if events repeat themselves. She gives me a puzzled look when I return. "Just making sure I didn't forget anything." She seems reassured and we continue on our way to the bedroom.

Once we're there and I've closed the door, our hands are all over each other. We're acting like horny teenagers getting hot and heavy in the back of the Chevy. We just about rip each other's clothes off and fall on top of the bed. It's no-holds-barred raw, carnal sex. She sucks me, I eat her, we morph into sixty-nine, her on top. Just when I'm getting close she rolls off me and lies on the bed spread-eagled.

"Fuck me, Christian! Hard!" she growls at me.

"Yes, ma'am!" I'm all too happy to oblige. I plunge into her and start with a slow grind but it doesn't stay slow for long, soon I'm pounding her pussy like a piston and she's matching me stroke for stroke. Finally, I hear the magic sound, the one that thrills me every time.

"Christian!" I look and see her in the throes of orgasm and feel her cunt grab my cock and I follow her into that moment of ecstasy.

"Anastasia!" And it feels like it goes on forever but I know it doesn't. The after-spasms continue for a little while and then abate. As I lie there on top of her, I feel her heart beat. I wonder if she can feel mine?

Just when I'm about to ask her, we hear a cry from the baby monitor. We separate in an instant; as we roll off the bed, she grabs my shirt and I grab my pants and we run to the nursery. Teddy's crying up a storm and she picks him up to try to calm him down. It works, immediately.

"What's the matter, big boy? Did you have a nightmare?" She's feeling his diaper but it looks like that's not the problem.

"Do babies have nightmares?" I ask.

"I have no idea," she answers, "I hope not. Do you think we were too loud?"

"Ana, there's no way he could have heard us in here."

"Well, whatever it was, he's fine now. Look, he's back asleep." She lays him back down in the crib and tucks him in.

Back in our room, we clean up and get back in bed.

"Good night, Anastasia. I love you."

"Good night, Christian. I love you, too." I turn out the light and fall asleep.

* * *

_Middle C, G_

I'm instantly awake. The alarm clock is at the familiar 2:30 and I feel like I'm in some weird re-enactment of _Groundhog Day_. As I did yesterday, I grab my iPhone and head downstairs. I go straight into the music room and turn on the lights. The fucking keyboard is uncovered, again, and I snap a picture of it. What that'll prove, I don't know, but I can at least point to time and date of when this is all happening.

Once again, I do the tour of the room. Once again, nothing is amiss. This is getting fucking irritating. I close the keyboard and stand there. No drafts, no brushing against my neck, nothing. I check the windows, then walk to the door and turn out the lights.

_Christian_

I whip my head around and see her between the window and the piano, a petite woman with long dark hair. Anastasia? I rush over and reach out and she evaporates right in front of me. What the fuck?! And all at once, my heart is seized by a cold, hard dread. No, it can't be! She was upstairs! We made love just a few hours ago!

I run out of the music room, screaming at the top of my lungs.

"ANASTASIAAAAA!"


	3. Who Are You?

ANASTAAASIAAA!

I take the stairs three at a time. I burst into our room and she's sitting on the bed, looking shocked. I lunge myself at her so hard it's practically a tackle. We're lying on the bed, I'm hugging her, completely encircling her.

"You're alive, you're alive, you're alive! ohmygod You're alive!" I say over and over as I rock her back and forth, reveling in the precious solidity of her body. I can smell her hair, I can feel her skin, I can hear her breathing. She's real; she's not dead. She's really here.

"Christian! Of course I'm alive! Why would you think otherwise?" Her voice is muffled since I'm pressing her head tightly against my chest. After a few more minutes I'm finally feeling calm enough to ease the tightness with which I'm clinging to her. I move so that I can see her face, her beautiful, beautiful face. Right now, I am such a jumble of emotions – love, relief, fright. I'm slowly recovering from the horror that I thought had happened.

"Christian, what's this all about?" She pulls back and looks at me with concern.

What do I tell her? That I'm hearing dominant chords, feeling drafts of cold air, seeing and hearing ghosts? That I saw a woman who looked like her, she evaporated and left me thinking the love of my life was dead? Shit, I don't know if I can even tell Flynn all this.

"I, I must have had a nightmare," I stutter. It's all I can come up with at the moment and it sounds lame even to me.

"You were screaming at the top of your lungs and you came bursting into the room. Are you sleepwalking now, too?"

"I've been having vivid nightmares the last couple nights. So vivid I had to get up and check the house. Just now I thought something happened to you. Ana, I was so scared!" I pull her back towards me and hug her tightly again.

My fear has finally abated and the adrenalin rush I had transforms into erotic energy. I'm consumed by a desperate need to be in her, to feel her surround me. I start kissing her lightly on her face, little feather kisses all over, hoping she'll respond. It takes a minute but then she does. Yes! Pretty soon we're in full coupling mode. It's swift and sweet and, as always, it's over too soon. We finish our night's sleep wrapped around each other.

When morning arrives I don't even bother reviewing the tapes or asking Gail about the keyboard. I'm pretty sure what the answers will be; instead, I text Taylor asking him to check the video and let me know if anything unusual shows up.

When I'm not in meetings or on the phone I spend the rest of the morning thinking about what I'm going to say to Flynn at my appointment this afternoon. If someone else told me what I'm going to tell him I'd write that person off as certifiably nuts, or at the very least, seriously disturbed. Several times this morning I think about cancelling the appointment, at one point going so far as to dial his number but when it starts to ring I hang up.

Zero hour arrives and I'm sitting in the familiar chair in his office.

"So, Christian, what brings you here? It sounded rather urgent when I talked with you yesterday."

"John, I'm having hallucinations." There. It's out in the open. No going back at this point.

"I see. What kind of hallucinations?" Damn. Sometimes the man's unflappability can be so irritating.

"First, let me ask you. How much do you know about music and music theory?"

"Well, like many young boys, I played guitar. Even had a band in my youth, what people here would call a garage band, although home garages are almost nonexistent in urban London. Why do you ask?"

"Then you know what a dominant chord is, right?"

"Of course, and augmented sevenths, and diminished fifths. I assume there's a point to this."

I proceed to pour out the events of the last two days to him. Everything. Piano notes in the night, voices, visions of Ana, everything, including my irritability. When I'm done, it actually feels good, like a mental vomiting.

He finishes making notes and looks up at me. "So, what do you think this means?"

And I. just. lose it. "WHAT THE FUCK DO _I_ THINK IT MEANS?! IS THAT ALL YOU GOT? THE FUCK _I_ THINK IT MEANS!? WHAT THE FUCK AM I PAYING YOU FOR, YOU FUCKIN' QUACK!" I jump up from my chair and go over to the "break box." There's a crystal goblet there; I pick it up and smash it to the floor. (On my first visit with Flynn, after I destroyed his Theodore Alexander office chair, I was to only select items from the "break box" if I needed to smash something. I did pay for a new chair, though.)

He continues as if nothing's happened. "These events all carry some sort of significance for you. You're sure the two notes are middle C and the G above?"

"I have perfect pitch, John. I know which notes I heard. And I told you, the dominant interval is of special significance for me."

I calm down and we proceed to explore the meaning of everything. The apparition and voice could be an ex-sub or or Ana or my mother in her teenage years, maybe even Elena with her true hair color. I was shocked and upset when she was killed in that murder-suicide with Linc shortly after our wedding, but somehow that just doesn't fit.

The notes seem a little more obvious but we discuss them at great length as well. We even talk about the times of occurrence. In the end, I'm left with more questions than answers.

"How are you and Anastasia getting along these days?" he asks.

"Fine," I reply, "we have the usual ups and downs like I suppose any married couple with a baby would have. We're trying for another one."

He raises his eyes at this, which is the most reaction I've gotten out of him since I've been here. "Wonderful! Whose idea was this?"

"Actually, I was the one who brought it up," (internal smirk here) "and she readily agreed."

"Very good. I hope it works out for you. What I'll tell you at this point is if these things happen again, face them head on, just like you've already been doing. You might want to start journaling these events, including what happened during the previous day, your emotional state, etc. If it continues to interfere with your sleep pattern, I can write you a prescription for a sleeping aid."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," I quickly reply. I abhor drugs, even prescription drugs, and avoid them almost to a point of phobia.

"All right, then. If you feel the need for another urgent session, I'm sure you'll call me. Otherwise I'll see you at our next scheduled visit."

"Thanks, John."

I'm feeling somewhat better after my visit and I suspect this is mainly due to unloading all this crazy shit on him and his calm reaction to it. I don't think we've come to any solution to the problem, if indeed there is one, but it's amazing how much it helps to verbalize to someone.

Back at the office, I continue to handle the usual corporate matters; the only bump in the afternoon is a call from Ana informing me of another late night, although she doesn't think this one will be as late as last night. I ask if I should hold dinner for her but she says no, she'll be ordering dinner for the staff and eating while they work.

So when I get home in the evening, I decide to eat while I do some work. Gail brings dinner to my office and Teddy crawls around and plays on the floor. I have the child gate in the doorway so I don't have to worry about him wandering off.

After about an hour of reviewing contracts and spreadsheets, I've had it, so I pick up my son and head over to the music room. Let's see if anything happens while I'm actually in there. I put Teddy in his bouncy seat and sit down to play. He's in my line of vision so while I'm going through the music I keep an eye on him. Sure enough, after a few pieces, I can see he's getting restless. I pick him up and take him back to the piano with me, sitting him on my lap. We've played together a few times and he just bangs his hands flat on the keys.

This time, though, it's different. He looks at the keyboard, almost as if he's deliberating. As I watch, he takes his chubby little index finger and presses two keys in succession.

Middle C, G.

It's taking all of my self-control not to run screaming from the room with my son in my arms. In fact, I want to run screaming from this house. I don't do that, though. Instead, I take a very deep breath and say to him, "Wow, Teddy! That's good! You'll be playing Mozart in no time!"

He looks up at me, says "Daaa!" and smiles his awesome little boy smile; I'm instantly calmed. Checking my watch, I see that it's past his bedtime, so we go upstairs to the nursery. Just like last night, I bathe him, put on his jammies, and sing to him. He falls asleep and I tuck him in his crib.

Baby monitor in hand, I turn out the light and leave his room. I'm not at all sleepy and I don't feel like doing any more work but I'd like to play the piano some more so I head back to the music room.

_Christian_

I stop halfway down the stairs. I close my eyes and count to ten. When I open them, I slowly look around to see if maybe Anastasia, Gail, or even my mom is around but no, I'm all alone. I take out my iPhone and call Ana. She picks up on the second ring.

"Christian, what's up?"

"Nothing, baby, I just needed to hear your voice. How much longer you think you'll be?"

"At least a couple more hours. We've got a deadline and this author's being a real prima donna about the edits."

"Well, your guys miss you. I'll wait up for you. Love you, baby."

"Love you, too. I'll try to hurry this along as much as I can. I miss you too!"

Like Teddy's smile, my wife's voice is a soothing balm for my soul. Whatever's going on, I can handle it as long as I have her.

Back at the piano, I need music I can take out my frustrations on and decide on Khachaturian's _Toccata_. It's a wonderfully percussive piece that's just right for my current frame of mind. I play it over and over until I've had enough and then one more time for good measure.

A glass of wine seems like a good idea so I close the keyboard. I'll wait for Ana upstairs, maybe do some reading on the love seat in the bedroom. I turn out the music room lights and leave the room.

_Christian, he's alive._

Once again, I stop dead in my tracks, close my eyes, and count to ten. When I open them, I look around. The hallway is empty but when I turn into the music room, she's there, standing between the window and the piano like before. I close my eyes again but when I open them she's still there. The room is still dark but in the light from the window I can make out the same features as before, the long dark hair, petite body. I can't see her face, I can't see any details of what she's wearing.

"WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT" I scream as I turn on the lights.

She's gone.

I slowly sink to the floor and put my hands over my face. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening! THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!


	4. Revelation

"Christian?"

I jump off the floor, startled, going immediately into a kickboxing pose. "Wha? Huh? Who are you?"

"Christian, it's me, Ana." She backs away to avoid getting hit.

"Oh, Ana, I'm sorry. I've just been… so on edge lately." I go to hug her but she backs away some more. "Really, Ana, it's okay." I stand there with my arms open.

She looks at me, and after several seconds she comes forward and I envelop her. "Christian, what's going on? This morning you thought I was dead, I come home to find you on the floor here, moaning to yourself. You're starting to scare me."

"No, baby, don't be scared. I talked to Flynn today…"

"You what? You didn't tell me you were seeing Flynn!" She tries to back away again, but I keep my hold on her.

"I know," I interrupt her quickly, wanting to explain everything. "When I snapped at you yesterday on the phone I knew it was time to get some help so I made an appointment right away and saw him this afternoon. Listen, why don't I get a bottle of wine and meet you upstairs? You're still in your office clothes and I've got a long story to tell."

She pauses a moment, then says, "Sure" and I let go of her. As she walks down the hallway, I reach over and turn out the lights. As I step out the door, I hear it again.

_Christian, he's alive._

I stand there, fists clenched and eyes closed. "Shut the fuck up," I growl to myself and walk away.

Sitting on the love seat in our room, I decant the bottle of Sancerre while I start telling Ana my saga of the last couple days. She listens while she gets ready for bed and then sits on the love seat with me. When I'm finally done, I look at her over my glass and say, "So, are you going to have your husband committed now?" Throughout my narration she's been expressionless.

"No, Christian, I'm not going to have you committed," she replies quietly before taking a sip of her wine. "I'm just rather upset that you didn't tell me about this earlier. I had no idea you had an appointment with Flynn. When I asked you this morning, you told me you've been having nightmares…"

"And that's what I think this all is…"

"Wait, let me finish. You said you were having nightmares, Christian, but what you've just described to me is a lot more than nightmares. Taylor got a motion sensor alert, you saw someone standing on the cliff, our son is playing notes on the piano, this is way beyond nightmares!"

"I know, Ana, and that's why I called Flynn. I wanted to make sure I'm not going crazy, having some sort of psychotic break. I didn't want to lay all this on you without knowing what I'm dealing with. And you have so much on your mind already."

"Tell me something, Christian. If I hadn't come across you on the floor in the music room, would you have told me all this?"

Shit, why did she have to ask that? Much as I don't want to answer that question, I have to be honest with her. I've always tried to be honest in all my relationships but especially with Ana; I can't stop now.

"No, I probably wouldn't have," I answer her in a low voice. I watch her reaction and it's as I expected – she's pissed.

"Christian, I thought we were past this! You know how I hate it when you hold things back from me! After all we've been through, I thought we were at a point where you wouldn't feel a need to hide things from me." Now she looks like she might cry. Shit!

"I never meant to hide it from you, Ana. Okay, maybe for a while, until I felt I had it sorted out. You know how hard it is for me to talk about emotional shit and this goes way beyond emotional. I feel like I'm losing my mind!"

"You should have said something!" she shouts. She puts her head in her hands and sits that way for a while. I don't know what to say so I just wait until she calms down. After several minutes, she raises her head, looks at me, and says, "So what do you think all this means?"

"Anastasia, I have no idea." Now I'm the one trying to control my temper. I didn't tell her that that's the first thing Flynn asked and that it sent me into a rage. She's trying to move past my lack of communication so we can try to understand this and I don't want to alienate her.

"You thought it was me when you saw her, right?"

"Yes, she resembled you but it was dark and I couldn't make out any definite features. When I reached for her she vanished right in front of me. For some reason, my first thought was that you'd died and you were a ghost telling me goodbye. At that moment my heart felt like it was encased in ice. That's why I ran up here screaming for you."

"Oh, Christian, I'm so sorry." She wraps me in her arms with my head on her chest. I take her on my lap and we sit like that, gently rocking. Finally, we release a little bit and look at each other. All I see in her eyes is concern.

"What are we going to do?" she asks.

"We? There won't be any 'we', Mrs. Grey. This is my problem and I intend to fix it."

"Christian…"

"No, Anastasia, I'm not involving you in this beyond telling you what's going on. Now if this happens again tonight, I'll go downstairs and play along with whatever weird trick someone's playing on me. I haven't ruled out the possibility that someone's gotten in the house and is fucking with my mind. In fact, I'll tell Taylor in the morning to do a complete sweep of the place."

She stares at me intently, as if trying to figure out what to say. After taking a sip of wine, she says, "You'll tell me everything that goes on, right?"

"Absolutely," I nod.

"Promise? If you hear things again tonight, you'll let me know?"

"I promise to let you know but I won't wake you if you don't wake up on your own. At least one of us needs a good night's sleep and if these noises don't wake you, I'd just as soon your sleep stays uninterrupted. You haven't heard anything at all, right?"

She shakes her head ruefully. "I'm sorry, Christian, I didn't have the faintest idea that you were getting up in the middle of the night. Jeez, what kind of wife have I become?"

"Hey, hey, don't beat yourself up!" I take her back in my arms. "I'm glad you're not the one going through this. Obviously you're not hearing this, which makes me think it's really some sort of hallucination of mine. Or maybe I really am sleepwalking. I don't know but we'll figure it out." I start rubbing her back in a gentle circular motion. I nuzzle her neck and move in to kiss her. She returns the kiss but somehow I don't think I'll be getting lucky tonight. She reaches over to get her wine glass and finishes it.

"I'm really beat, Christian. I'm going to bed. Are you staying up?"

"No, I'll join you. If I'm going to be getting up in the middle of the night I should probably get some sleep as early as I can."

Maybe once we're cuddling she'll warm up to some canoodling. Even if she doesn't, holding my wife always makes me feel better.

We get in bed and turn out the lamps. I move over and spoon her, then slide my hand along her thighs, loving the silky feel of her nightgown and the firmness of her muscles underneath. Yes, she's filled out a little since having Ted but she's worked damn hard to get back in shape and it shows.

But for whatever reason - fatigue, residual annoyance with me, a rough day at work – my powers of sexual persuasion won't be working for me. She reaches over, takes my hand, brings it up to her lips, and gives it a kiss. That's one of her signals for "not tonight." Oh well, I tried.

I give her a kiss on her shoulder and turn over to my other side. She flips over, too, so that she's spooning me. I need some release so I reach down and slowly start stroking my cock. It got hard as I watched her undress and even through our intense discussion it never went very flaccid. As I pleasure myself, I think of Anastasia in our playroom at Escala. I see a mental picture of her, naked, with her hands cuffed to a shackle overhead.

As I develop the picture in my mind, my hand grabs my dick, hard, and the strokes intensify. I imagine her flawless skin turning pink under my skilled use of the flogger and I feel the buildup in my cock. I'm really stroking it now, right on the precipice, oh god, I'm so close, and then I feel her reach over and gently cup my balls. That one act sends me off and I explode with a hot, powerful gush that feels like it shot across the room.

"I'm sorry," she whispers into my back as I come down off my orgasm.

I turn over and kiss her forehead. "Don't be sorry. Thank you for helping me get there. We'll be okay, baby, really we will. Go to sleep, Anastasia. I love you."

"Good night, Christian. I love you."

As I fall asleep I'm thinking maybe we'll leave Teddy with my folks and spend the weekend at Escala.

* * *

_Middle C, G_

_Christian!_

I'm instantly awake. As expected, it's 2:30 and Ana's sound asleep. I quietly get out of bed, grab my iPhone and head for the music room. Unlike the previous nights, I'm perfectly calm and have somewhat of a plan. Since Flynn suggested journaling, I'll use the recording app to describe what I'm feeling and what's happening. I'll also take pictures of anything out of the ordinary.

I enter the music room and before I can turn on the lights I see her. Same as before, she's standing between the window and the piano, same long dark hair, same indistinct features. As I reach for the switch, I hear her.

_Don't!_

"What?!" I'm surprised to hear my own voice.

_Don't turn on the light._

"Why not?" This is ridiculous, talking with a hallucination.

_Christian, I'm here to warn you. He's alive._

This is another test of my self-control. I want to scream at the top of my lungs but I don't want to wake Ana or the baby.

"Who are you? Who is 'he'? And why are you warning me?" I growl as loudly as I can. I start walking slowly towards her. Maybe if I can get close enough to see her features I can figure this whole thing out and put an end to it. Someone's gotten into my house and I intend to find out who it is. She doesn't disappear as I approach and I'm hoping to be able to grab and restrain her. Then I'll call Taylor and we'll get to the bottom of this.

I'm at the piano now, noticing that the keyboard is uncovered, and I'm starting to see more definition to her features. There's something familiar about them; it's hovering in the back of my brain.

_Stop! Please don't come closer._

It's funny, I hear her voice but it doesn't seem to be coming out of her mouth. Maybe this really is a hallucination. I honestly don't know what to think any more but I decide to play this out for as long as it lasts.

"Why not?" I ask her.

_Because I'm not sure what will happen and I need to make you understand._

"Need to make me understand what? Who are you? Will you please explain?" I can barely contain myself.

_I love you, Christian. I only want what's best for you. Please believe me when I say that. I'm here to warn you._

Now the voice is also triggering a recollection. As my eyes continue to adjust to the darkness, I make out more of her features. The memory of them is slowly coming to the front of my brain. Suddenly, moonlight comes pouring through the window and I see her clearly.

It can't be. It can't fucking be. This is not happening.

"Not you!" I shout as I run my hands through my hair.

_Yes, baby boy, I'm your mother._

"NOOOOOOO!" I wail and the last thing I see is her face before everything goes black.


	5. Weekend Relaxation

When I open my eyes I'm looking up into Sawyer's face hovering over me. I'm lying down on the floor in the music room.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I growl at him.

"Sorry, sir," he replies, standing up. "You passed out and Taylor told me to come here with my kit. How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling fine," I snap at him as I sit up. Sawyer was a medic in the service and he's our personal first responder if there's anything that might require medical attention. "Where's my wife?"

"Right here, Christian." Ana comes from behind Sawyer and sits down next to me, Teddy in her arms.

"What's going on?" I ask her.

"Teddy started crying, so I went to his room. I saw you were gone and was going to look for you after I took care of him. Then I heard you scream. I picked him up and came running here and saw you on the floor by the piano. I called Taylor and he called Sawyer. Christian, what happened?"

I look at the two men and tell them, "Thanks, guys. That'll be all."

"Sir, I'd really like to check you a little further," Sawyer insists.

"I told you, I'm fine," I snap again.

"Christian, let him check you. Just to make sure. For me, please?" Ana looks at me pleadingly.

I look at each of them and see the concern in their faces. Shit.

"Oh, all right," I concede, "Just make it quick."

"Yes, sir," Sawyer replies and proceeds to perform a cursory check of me that seems to satisfy him. "Thank you, sir. Everything seems to be okay." We both stand up and this time when I dismiss them, they leave.

"What happened?" Ana asks me again. Teddy's fallen asleep in her arms so I suggest that we put him back to bed and talk about it in our bedroom. She agrees and takes Teddy back to the nursery.

We're back in bed, me lying on my back with my hands behind my head, her on her side with her head propped up on her hand. I tell her the story from when I left our room, right up to my blacking out.

"What do you think's happening?" she asks quietly, a minute or two after I've finished speaking.

"Honestly? I think someone's fucking with my mind." I turn on my side and put my head in my hand so that our positions mirror each other. "And you know what? They're not fucking getting away with it. What do you think of spending the weekend at Escala? I'll ask my folks to take Teddy."

"Christian, I don't think running away is the answer."

"I'm not running away. While we're gone I'll have Taylor scour this place top to bottom to make sure there are no hidden doors or subterranean passages that we don't know about. Someone's getting into this place and playing tricks with lights or mirrors or speakers or something. That's got to be what's happening and I'm putting an end to it."

She looks at me somewhat dubiously and then she flips onto her back and puts her hands behind her head.

"What?" I ask, "You don't think that's a good plan? Or can't you get away this weekend?"

"No, it's not that. It'll be tough but I can shift a few things around if you want to leave this afternoon. It's just that, maybe this isn't about something physical. What if something's out there that's trying to communicate with you?"

"Oh, come on, Ana, this is like a bad episode of The X-Files! Don't go all Mulder on me."

"I'm not going Mulder on you, Christian, I just think you should keep an open mind."

"I _am_ keeping an open mind. If it turns out there are no secret passages or hidden entrances in the house, then I must be hallucinating and you are free to commit me to the looney bin."

"No one's committing you anywhere, Christian." She sits up and looks down at me. "Look, I'll clear my schedule and try to leave the office early this afternoon. Check with your folks and see if we can drop off Teddy this evening and pick him up some time on Sunday."

"Will do, Mrs. Grey," I say as I sit up and embrace her. "Now how 'bout some plain vanilla before a weekend full of kinky fuckery?"

"Oh, Mr. Grey, you have such a way with words," she replies sultrily as I push her back down on the bed.

* * *

On the way to the office I give Taylor his instructions for checking out the house. I want to know if there's any possibility of someone being able to enter the place without using the normal entrances. He's to check for hidden doorways, passageways, even airducts. If he doesn't find anything with a visual inspection, he's to get the architectural plans from my brother and make sure everything matches with the house. He has the next two days to do this.

I also want him to check for the installation of any kind of projectors, speakers, or microphones that can be remotely controlled. It's not outside the realm of possibility that this is someone's sick idea of a joke. If I find out that that's the case, whoever is behind it will be in for a special kind of hell.

Late morning, I get a call from Ana telling me she can get away around three. I call mom to ask her about Teddy and she's all for it, even asking us to join them for dinner tonight. That'll be a nice start to the weekend we have planned.

The day flies by and pretty soon I'm back at the house; Ana's running a little late but that's okay, we have plenty of time. Gail and I start getting things ready; she and Sawyer are coming with us while Taylor stays here to supervise the house inspection.

Ana arrives and we wait for her to change and gather a few things, then we're on our way to Bellevue. Mom's already standing at the door when we drive up. She only has eyes for her grandson; we're just the delivery people. While I suppose most couples are comfortable leaving their babies with their parents, I'm especially grateful that my mom's a pediatrician. It gives both me and Ana extra peace of mind when we leave him with them.

Teddy's the star attraction at dinner. Mom never threw away any of our stuff so the high chair she used for all of us is going through its second generation; my son is sitting there like he's lord of the realm, with mom and Mia as his maidservants. Dad, Ana, and I are trying to carry on an adult conversation but it's pretty hopeless as long as Teddy's here.

After dinner we sit out on the patio, enjoying wine, conversation, and the beautiful weather. I debate telling my parents about the events back at the house but decide not to. They don't need the added stress or, worse, concern for my sanity. I've put them through enough.

Finally, we're ready to leave for Escala. I'm really getting pumped; Ana's been giving me signals all evening that she's ready for action. Sawyer drove Gail to the penthouse while we were having dinner so he's the only other person in the car besides us. We haven't even exited the driveway when Ana and I are all over each other like horny teenagers.

It's a fun ride across town. I'm the lucky recipient of a blow job, and while tit for tat didn't used to be my style, Ana's completely changed me and I bring her off several times with my expert oral skills. We manage to get ourselves somewhat presentable just as the Audi pulls into the Escala garage.

Once we're upstairs, I tell her to be in position in the playroom in ten minutes. When she goes off to get herself ready, the first thing I do is check the piano here. The keyboard cover is down and I breathe a small sigh of relief. I take it as a sign that I've finally gotten away from the all the drama at the house.

We haven't had a playroom session in a few weeks and I've been looking forward to this one ever since I jacked off last night, probably even before that. I hear the door open and close upstairs and I know that she's ready for me. Taking my time, I go to our bedroom to change into my playroom jeans. While I'm changing I plan our scene for this session. It's late so it won't be long but it'll certainly be good. Shackles. Yes, she'll definitely be shackled.

* * *

My eyes sense the morning light and open to the familiar sight of the Seattle skyline. Anastasia and I are entwined on top of the sheets, naked as newborns. I look down her body and notice the lingering pink on her ass. Oh, that looks so delicious! My dick thinks so, too, and he starts poking her smooth, taut abs. She's still sleeping so I reach down and nestle him between her legs. We're ready when she is!

And then it hits me – no piano notes! I look at the clock and it's almost five-thirty. Holy shit, I slept through the night! No voices, no dark-haired ghosts, nothing! This convinces me more than ever that there's some trickery going on at the house. I'll call Taylor for a report later this afternoon to see if he's found anything.

Ana starts stirring and I get in her face so when she opens her eyes, I'm the first thing she sees.

"Good morning, beautiful wife," I murmur.

"Good morning, handsome husband," she whispers back.

She disentangles herself and takes a good long stretch on the bed. Seeing her arms extended like that, I seize the moment to grab them, bring them together, then quickly get a pair of handcuffs from the nightstand drawer and cuff her.

"What are you going to do now, Mrs. Grey?" I ask as I sit up and admire her naked body.

"Oh, Mr. Grey, haven't you learned by now that I accept any challenge you make?" she says as she quickly sits up and lowers her arms around me so I'm encircled. Then I'm totally shocked when she actually rolls me over so she's on top.

"Now what are _you_ going to do, Mr. Grey?" she smirks.

"Oh, Mrs. Grey, I guess you haven't learned either," and I roll over so she's on the bottom. I reach down and check; yep, she's soaking wet and my heat-seeking missile finds its target. Ahh, yes, morning sex with my wife. Mmmmm, so good.

Later at breakfast we plan our day. We'll do a couple hours of office work, just to make sure no crises are on the horizon, then we'll walk down to the Pike Market district and play tourist. After lunch we'll come back here and I'll check on Taylor's progress at the house. Then maybe we'll get down to some seriously kinky fuckery.

I'm feeling relaxed like I haven't felt in several weeks. Between our playroom session last night and the great morning with my wife, my life seems like it's getting under control again. I talked to Taylor and he hasn't found anything amiss at the house but he's not finished with his investigation. He's got the blueprints for the house and Ryan is helping him so he hopes to finish by early tomorrow afternoon. He's also gone over the security tapes for the last forty-eight hours and has seen nothing unusual.

In spite of his findings, I'm feeling optimistic. If there really is nothing defective at the house, it's more indication that something unhealthy is going on with my mental state. And the fact that I slept through the night here is even more supportive of that idea.

Saturday morning I again wake with the daylight. Another night of uninterrupted sleep! This weekend getaway keeps getting better and better. Yesterday afternoon we had an absolutely awesome session in the playroom, then we took a short nap on the big bed. After that, we decided to actually have a date night, so we walked to a sushi place, then to a movie theater where we saw _Man of Steel_. I love that our penthouse is right in the middle of so many things to do.

Looking out the window, I see it's good weather for taking out the _Grace_. I shake Ana awake and tell her to get dressed while I go rustle up some breakfast. Gail's already in the kitchen when I get there so I tell her some pancakes and sausage will be fine.

Out on the water, life is truly beautiful. Ana's learned her sailing lessons well so we really don't need Mac but he's along just in case any bad weather comes up. Also, he keeps an eye on things when my wife and I are otherwise occupied. I head down the Sound and pretty soon we're sailing along the coast near our house. We're close enough that I can barely see the building beyond the edge of the cliff. I'm blinking in the sea spray and then I see her. She's standing on the edge, her long dark hair hanging down, but I can't make out the features of her face.

"ANA!" I shout at the top of my lungs; she's below and I want her up here as quickly as possible. "ANA, GET UP HERE!"

She comes running up and I point to the cliff, "Do you see…." but when I turn to where I'm pointing the woman is gone. Shit! I take out my iPhone immediately and call Taylor.

"What is it?" Ana asks.

"Just keep an eye on the cliff by our house and let me know if you see anyone," I order her. She gives me a funny look but does what I tell her. Taylor answers my call and I order him to search the grounds by the cliff and call me back.

"Did you see anyone?" I ask Ana.

"No," she answers, "who was I supposed to see?"

"A woman with long, dark hair."

"Are you serious?"

"Dead serious." My phone rings and I answer immediately. Unfortunately, after listening to Taylor's report, I have to conclude that I must have been seeing things. Maybe I'm not as relaxed as I thought.

"What's going on, Christian?"

"Taylor didn't find anyone."

"That doesn't mean no one's there. It's a big estate; she could be hiding anywhere."

I take a few deep breaths and stare up at the cliff. "You're right. She could be. Or I could have imagined it."

"I don't think so, Christian. I'm sure you saw someone. And we'll get to the bottom of this when we get back to the house. For now, let's enjoy our sail." She takes my hand and I look down at her; my beautiful wife, she believes me.

"You're right. Shall I call Mac to take the helm while you and I go below?" I say with a wink.

"Excellent idea, Captain," she winks back.

Back at the penthouse I get a detailed report from Taylor. There are no secret passageways or hidden chambers. He didn't find any hidden speakers or projectors or anything like that. But he did come up with something interesting and I'm looking forward to Ana's reaction when I tell her about it.

We decide to spend the evening at home. Gail's made a pork roast for dinner and while Ana and I eat, I tell her about Taylor's findings.

After going over the blueprints and checking them against the building, he decided to do some research on the history of the house. The previous two families who lived there only stayed for about five years each. I remember meeting the people we bought the house from briefly during negotiations and thought they were letting it go so cheaply because of the economy, maybe because of job loss and inability to afford the payments.

But the prior owners had also sold rather cheaply and this was before the economy tanked. Taylor was able to talk with the wife on the phone and she told him the house gave her the willies. He made it very clear that those were her exact words. She didn't really want to say any more about it.

Monday, he's going to follow up with guy I bought the house from and see if he can find out the reason he sold. He also asked if it was okay for Ryan to spend the night in one of the guest rooms at the house, to see if he hears or sees anything. I gave him my approval.

"So he thinks the house is haunted," Ana states after listening to all that.

"He didn't say that," I correct her, "He only reported what a previous owner said."

"Well, I think it's a distinct possibility."

"There you go again, going all Mulder on me."

"I'm not going Mulder on you, Christian, I'm just willing to entertain the possibility that there may be more to this than meets the eye."

"And I'll agree with you on that, I just don't think that that 'more' is anything from the outer limits. I'm a rationalist; you know that."

"Yes, I do know that. I'm just saying, keep an open mind, that's all."

"Oh, I always have an open mind, Mrs. Grey," I say as I pull her towards me. "And right now I'd like an open wife," I murmur into her neck. "What do you say we go try to make a baby?"

"Christian, we've been fucking like rabbits; don't you think we've made one already?"

"No harm in making sure, Mrs. Grey." She giggles as I pick her up and carry her to our bedroom.

* * *

Sunday makes the third morning in a row that I don't get the two-thirty wakeup call. Three nights of uninterrupted sleep. I'd gotten so used to nightmare-free, full-night sleeping since being with Anastasia that I didn't realize how much it bothered me to have my sleep disrupted again.

After breakfast we have a final session in the playroom before getting ready to pick up Teddy and have lunch with my folks. They're happy to see us; as much as they love their grandson, I'm sure their energy levels need replenishment after almost three days with him.

Back at the house, Taylor greets us at the door. While Gail and Ana get everything settled, he gives me an update on the house. Ryan actually slept in the music room last night; he heard and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Taylor also searched the grounds again, looking for anyone hiding but found no one. I thank Taylor for his and Ryan's efforts.

At dinner, I give Anastasia the updates. After discussing it, we both come to the conclusion that it must be stress. Except for the brief delusion I had while we were sailing, I didn't see or hear anything the whole time we were at Escala. Our current plan is that if the hallucination returns, I'll just play along with it. I'll take notes and discuss it with Flynn in my next session.

After dinner we sit on the patio for a while, drinking wine and enjoying the evening. Before bed we do a final check of emails, making sure we're not blindsided on Monday morning by any unexpected developments in our respective companies.

And it's my lucky night! We play one last game of hide the sausage before drifting off into what I hope will be dreamless, uninterrupted sleep. Yes, dreamless and uninterrupted, damn it.


	6. Lady Gaga

_Middle C, G_

_Christian!_

Fuck! Not again. Just when I thought I was past all this shit, here it goes again.

_Middle C, G_

_Christian!_

Focus! I tell myself. Remember the plan – go along with it, take notes, discuss with Flynn. Anastasia's still asleep. I quietly slip out of bed and leave the room.

_Christian!_

"Oh, shut up," I mutter to whatever the fuck this is. Why do I have to have these goddamn hallucinations at two-thirty in the fucking morning?

I pad across the balcony and down the stairs. As soon as I enter the music room I see her there, standing between the window and the piano. The lighting is such that I can't see her face, only her hair and her bodily shape. I start walking towards her but after a few steps, her hand comes up like a crossing guard's signal.

_Stop! That's close enough._

"Whatever. What do you want?"

_I need to talk to you, baby boy. I have so much to say and not enough time to say it._

The moonlight shifts in the window so I see her face more clearly. Yes, it's the face I remember from last week and the one I remember from my early childhood. I don't faint this time, though, and I force myself to look right at her. This is not happening. This is a delusion brought on by stress. This is just a trick my mind is playing on me.

"So say what you have to say. I'd really like to get back to bed."

_You don't believe it's me, do you?_

"Believe you're my birth mother? The crack whore?" I snort, a loud, sarcastic snort. "Hardly. You're more like Marley's ghost – what was that Scrooge said about him? Oh, yeah, you could be a bit of undigested beef, except I didn't have beef for dinner, I had salmon. So maybe you're a piece of rotten fish."

She seems to grimace at these words. Damn! I sure can produce realistic hallucinations.

_It's really me, Christian. I'm your mother. _

"No, you're not my mother! My mother is asleep right now with my father in a house in Bellevue, Washington! You're nothing but a figment of my imagination, a hallucination!"

_I'm sorry, Christian. I know you're angry but please listen to me._

Play along, play along. Remember the game plan is to play along.

"Okay, what are you talking about? What are you doing here?" I force myself to maintain a civil tone of voice.

_This house is special – it's built on a portal between the earthly plane and the spiritual plane. I've been allowed to contact you through it. This is my chance to make amends._

"Make amends? Seriously? For what? Letting your pimp use me as an ashtray and punching bag? Leaving me to starve to death after you overdosed? You really think you can make amends for that?" In spite of my efforts, my voice has grown louder until I'm almost shouting.

Calm down, calm down. This is just an illusion. You've gone over all this shit countless times with Flynn and other shrinks. This isn't real. I keep telling myself that but the funny thing is, it sure as hell feels real.

_I know, baby boy, and I'm so sorry. I was really fucked up back then. I know that's not an excuse but_

"Christian?"

I turn and see Anastasia in the doorway of the music room.

"What's going on?" she asks, "I heard you shouting."

I look back towards the window and the phantom is gone. Strange, but I almost feel sad about that. I shake my head, hoping to get rid of such ridiculous thoughts.

"What are you doing down here?" I turn back to Ana.

"I heard the baby through the monitor and when I got up, I saw you weren't in bed. After checking on him, I came down here looking for you. Want to tell me about it?"

"Not really, but I will. Let's go back to bed." As I leave the music room, I notice the keyboard cover is down. That's funny, I know I heard the notes tonight but every other time I heard them, the keyboard was uncovered. This is making no fucking sense at all.

"Is Teddy okay?" I ask as we walk back upstairs.

"He is now. I heard him cry and went to his room. All I had to do was hold him; he wasn't wet or poopy or anything. He calmed down as soon as I picked him up."

"Maybe he had a nightmare."

"What would a baby his age have a nightmare about?"

"I have no idea, I'm just guessing here."

Back in our room I flop down on our bed and turn on the light on my night table. Ana turns off the light on hers.

"Okay, Grey, what went on down there?"

I sigh. "I saw her again. She kept insisting she's my mother."

"Did she look like your mother?" Ana interrupts.

"Yes, I could see her face a little more clearly this time. She looked like the crack whore, or at least how I remember her. She sounded like her, too. Again, at least how I remember she sounded, it was so long ago." Damn, I _hate_ reliving this shit!

"So did she say anything else?"

"Yes, she said this house is built on a portal to the other world and she's been allowed to contact me through it." I look at Ana; her face is totally noncommittal. I don't know if she's thinking I'm crazy but she's listening intently.

"Why is she contacting you?"

"Last week, before I actually saw her, she said something about a warning and she kept saying 'He's alive.' This time she didn't elaborate on that. I got rather angry with her."

"Angry?" That got a reaction from Ana. "Why did you get angry?"

"She told me she was here to make amends. I lost it at that point. Then, when she was trying to justify herself, you walked in and she disappeared."

"So you believe you were talking to your birth mother."

"No, I believe I'm talking to a fucking hallucination! Look, I have no idea why all this shit is coming up but this isn't real, it's all in my mind. I've told you everything. Now I'm going to write it all down while it's still fresh in my memory and then try to get some sleep. You go back to sleep now, too." I kiss her forehead. "I'll talk about all this with Flynn and we'll get it straightened out. Trust me. It'll be okay." She gives my hand a squeeze and gets under the covers. I pull a notepad and pen from my nightstand drawer and start writing about what happened.

As I start writing out the events of the past week in longhand, I'm surprised to discover how viscerally satisfying it is to put pen to paper. I haven't done this in a long time and it seems so much more pleasant than typing on a keyboard. I think I'm the last generation to have actually learned penmanship and it makes me sad that my son might never learn it. The words flow like magic from my brain right through my hand, recounting all the events that started a week ago today.

By the time I finish writing, then rereading it to make sure I didn't miss anything, it's almost four. I feel strangely relieved, almost like I've made a confession, which I guess I have, in a way. Getting it written down so anyone can read it makes it seem a little more real.

I join Ana under the covers for another hour of shut-eye but when I wake up again it's almost six. I look over and Ana's not there; she's probably already downstairs feeding the baby. I debate skipping my morning run but decide I need it after three days of slacking off.

Ana's in the kitchen when I get back, all dressed and ready for the day; she's been waiting for me to show up before she leaves for work. Teddy's in a bouncy swing; Gail sets out my breakfast and I sit down to eat it. While I was running, I decided to go back to seeing Flynn weekly. For the last five or six months I've been seeing him only about once a month but considering recent events I think it's a good idea to go back to more frequent sessions. She's all in favor of this when I tell her.

* * *

It's a crazy day at work, what with my three day weekend and the usual Monday crap. Several deals seem to be going sour but I slog through it all and manage to remember to call Flynn to set up my weekly appointment, starting tomorrow. He jokes about going shopping for a new Mercedes and I tell him to fuck off.

Ana's day is just as crazy as mine, maybe even crazier, seeing as she called to tell me she won't be home until very late. They're ordering dinner for her and her staff so it'll be Teddy and me eating alone tonight.

I get a report from Taylor after his phone call with the guy I bought the house from. Unlike the previous owner, this one was very willing to talk. It seems everything was great for the first year or so after they moved in but then weird things started happening. They had two kids in middle school who started talking about seeing an old man over by the cliff. The wife began to feel cold drafts in the music room, then she claimed to hear her dead father speaking to her there. The guy put the house on the market after she talked about actually seeing her dead father.

"Sir, his exact words were 'I knew we had to get out of there before she went completely crackers,'" Taylor tells me.

"So he didn't sell for financial reasons?"

"It would appear not, sir. They bought another house a mile or so away from your parents' place."

"Thank you, Taylor. Anything else?"

"No, sir, that's all I have. Do you want me to do any more follow-up?"

"Not for now. I'll let you know if I need more research or investigation." With that, he heads back to his office down the hall.

I end up working rather late myself, although not as late as Ana; she called again to tell me she might not make it home until almost midnight. Getting home at seven, Teddy and I opt for dinner on the terrace again, just like last week. I don't feel like going for a hike, so when we're finished, we move to my office for a little more work. After an hour or so of that, I've had enough so it's over to the music room for some piano therapy. I know I'm pushing things by doing this but damn it, I am NOT going to be chased out of my own house, not by any ghost, apparition, hallucination, delusion, whatever.

Teddy really should be in bed but his presence is comforting, especially when Ana's not here. I set him up in his play yard and sit down at the piano to get lost in some Mozart. I don't really buy that bit about Mozart being good for babies' brains but it can't hurt him and my brain can certainly use the orderly structure of the music.

I start warming up with scales, keeping my eye on Teddy while I'm playing. He's chewing on his toy and watching the mobile overhead. Progressing from scales to etudes, I watch him get sleepier. When I finally start a Mozart sonata I'm pretty sure he's fallen asleep but when I finish it, I look over and see he's wide awake. His pudgy little arms are waving in the air and he's really babbling. I go over to check if he's wet or poopy.

"What's up, buddy?" I ask as I kneel and pick him up from the play yard.

"Gaga, Gaga!" he answers, somewhat loudly.

"Grandma's not here; she's at home," I tell him. "Gaga" is his version of "grandma" and we joke about how he's transformed my mom into Lady Gaga. Maybe he was dreaming of her (my mom, that is, not Lady Gaga).

"Gaga! Gaga!" he insists. I check his diaper but it's unsoiled. I close my eyes, sit back on my haunches, and bounce him while hugging him closely. Much as I wish Ana were here, I relish these moments alone with my son. I love him so much!

He keeps saying Gaga but he doesn't seem upset. Maybe after spending the weekend with her he misses her. I ask him, "Do you want to see Grandma? We'll call her in the morning and see if she wants to come over tomorrow, how about that?"

I rise halfway up and lean over to put him back down in the play yard. He's smiling and blowing little drooly bubbles. I rub his belly while he waves his arms and kicks his legs. "Gaga!" He really seems to have a fixation.

I straighten up and kneel next to the play yard, just watching him. He's looking up at me and smiling. It takes me a few seconds but I finally notice that he's not just waving, he's pointing. At first, I think it's at me but no, it seems to be at a point beyond me. And then I feel a cold hand on my shoulder.


	7. Lady Madonna

I am frozen. Stone, cold, fucking frozen. My body is incapable of movement while my mind whirls through a maelstrom of thoughts. I'm back in the apartment in Detroit, hiding from the pimp, wandering the rooms looking for food, getting burned, shaking my dead mother in an attempt to wake her. There are good memories, too: the smell of birthday cake, her voice when she sang me to sleep, but the overriding thoughts are the painful ones. I see all this, I hear it, I feel it. It hurts, it really, really hurts.

Suddenly, the hand is gone from my shoulder and the thoughts melt away. I sense someone behind me and whoever it is starts walking. I see her as she comes around to my right and stops at the end of the play yard. Two things strike me at once: the first is that she seems like a real, flesh and blood being, and the second is that she is extraordinarily beautiful. I remember my mother as being pretty but I think all little boys feel that way about their moms. This woman is gorgeous.

She's looking down at my son with a sad, sweet smile on her face, her hands at her side. She's wearing a white, long-sleeved, shapeless gown; her hair frames her face and hangs down below her shoulders. She turns her head and looks at me.

_He's a beautiful baby. I remember when you were that small; you were a beautiful baby, too._

I hear what she's saying but her lips aren't moving. I don't understand; this is all too crazy. When I look down at my son, I see that he's all smiles, staring at her and waving his arms. It's disturbing to me and I reach down to pick him up. He babbles as he alternates between looking at her and looking at me. I hold him close as I stand up.

Since she's so much shorter than me, I'm looking down at her. I feel weak in the knees so I walk over to the piano bench and sit down; that puts us more or less at eye level to each other. She takes a few steps closer to me. Her eyes alternate between looking at me and looking at Teddy. I put him on my lap and he continues to babble at her. This is all just so bizarre.

"How did you get in here?" I ask her. Since she seems so real, she must have gotten in like a normal person.

_I told you. This house is a portal__. I don't know exactly how it works but I'm allowed to contact you through it._

"How is it you're so solid now? You used to be more ghostly."

_I'm not sure. I'm still learning how to do this. It has something to do with matter and energy. It took a lot of energy to lift that keyboard._

She reaches out as if to touch Teddy and my immediate reaction is to hug him tighter and turn away from her. I scoot over on the piano bench to put more distance between us.

"Don't touch him!" I hiss at her.

_I won't hurt him. He's my grandson._

"I was your _son_ and I got hurt plenty." I'll be damned if I'll let her near him.

_I'm sorry, Christian._

"You're sorry? Sorry?! Is that what you came back from the grave for – to tell me you're sorry? Go back where you came from and leave me and my family alone!" I'm hugging Teddy so tightly now that he's starting to squirm.

_Christian, I started to tell you this morning, I was so fucked up back then but I never meant to hurt you. I just didn't know how to deal with my demons so I turned to_

"Hi, guys! We finished earlier than I thought so here I am!" Anastasia walks in the room, and right in front of my very eyes my mother disappears.

"How are my two – Christian! What is it? You look like you've – Wait! Is she here?"

All I can do is shake my head slowly and stare at the spot where my mother or her ghost or my hallucination was standing. I don't fucking believe this.

Teddy starts crying and that brings me back to reality. Anastasia drops her purse and bag on the floor and takes him from me. She checks his diaper but everything seems to be all right at that end so she gently bounces him from side to side.

"So what happened?" she asks quietly as she sits on the piano bench next to me. Teddy seems to have settled down but I still haven't. I take a deep breath to clear my head. It works somewhat since I'm able to respond to her.

"Let's put him to bed. Then I'll get a fire going in the pit on the terrace and we can talk about it over some wine."

"Why don't I put him to bed while you set up the fire? And no wine for me, please, I'll make myself some tea."

"Okay, I'll meet you outside. I'll leave your things in the kitchen," I say as I pick up her purse and briefcase.

Less than an hour later, she's finished her tea, the fire is almost out, and I'm still working on my scotch. She listened intently while I recounted the evening's events and now we're both pondering them in silence.

"So she's disappeared twice now when I've walked in the room, right?" Ana asks.

"That's correct."

"But it seems like Teddy can see her?"

"That's what it looks like but I can't really say for sure. I still think it's just a very vivid hallucination."

"And I'm thinking it's because I'm not blood."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're her biological son. Teddy's your biological son. You're all related by blood; I'm only related by marriage."

"I see." I pause for a moment, trying to digest what Ana's saying. Finally, I respond, "But you're working on the presumption that this is real. I'm still not convinced that it is."

"I know you're not, but _I'm_ becoming more and more convinced that it is. Two other people that we know of, who are totally unrelated to us, have experienced the same phenomenon. To paraphrase Shakespeare, 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Christian, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'"

"Spoken like a true English Lit major," I chide her.

"Well, this English Lit major has an idea. She wakes you up at 2:30 every morning, right?"

"So far, yes, every morning that we've stayed in the house since a week ago today."

"Then tomorrow morning when she wakes you up, wake me up and we'll go to the music room together."

"Are you sure? You really need your sleep, Ana. Besides, what'll it prove?"

"It'll prove to me that she only appears to blood relations. And if I don't see her, I'll just go back to bed. You can stay for a little while to see if she appears when I'm gone."

I sigh and stare into my glass of scotch. After thinking it over, I agree. I can always change my mind in the morning. "Okay, but if we're going to interrupt your sleep like that, we should go to bed now." We get up from our chaises. I finish my scotch, then all of a sudden, I don't know why, I feel impish. After looking around to make sure no one's watching, I walk over to the fire pit, unzip my pants, take out my dick, and dowse the fire with pee.

"Christian!"

"What? No one's watching and I killed two birds with one stone!" She sighs, shakes her head, and rolls her eyes. "Guys!" she mutters and walks away, taking the baby monitor with her.

"Mrs. Grey, did you roll your eyes at me?" I ask in mock-Dom mode, as I tuck myself back in.

"Yes, Mr. Grey, I did." She stops in her tracks and looks coquettishly at me over her shoulder. "Are you going to do something about it?"

"Oh, Mrs. Grey, you know how I feel about you rolling your eyes." So my wife wants to play! This evening just took a turn for the better.

* * *

_Middle C, G_

_Christian!_

Right on schedule, it's 2:30 and I'm instantly awake. I get out of bed immediately; then I remember that I'm supposed to wake Anastasia. She's naked on her side of the bed and sleeping soundly. The evidence of last evening's playtime is all around - her clothes are on the floor, my silver necktie is on the pillow above her head, and a flogger is on the nightstand. My cock's getting hard again just looking at all of it.

_Christian!_

Whoop, and there it goes back down. Nothing dampens the libido like the voice of your dead mother. I walk around and bend over Ana. Kissing her softly on the temple, I whisper in her ear, "Time to get up." She moans a little and shifts her body, as her eyes slowly open. "Are you sure you still want to do this?" I ask. She smiles, nods, and gets out of bed. She grabs her robe as we leave the bedroom.

Going downstairs, I don't hear the voice again and when we enter the music room I'm fairly certain the ghost isn't here. Strangely, I'm feeling somewhat disappointed. Ana stands by the door as I walk around the room, looking for anything that might indicate her presence, a cold draft, a glimpse of her image, anything. The keyboard cover on the piano is down.

"Do you see or feel anything?" I ask her after I've completed the circuit of the room. She shakes her head and asks, "Do you?" I shake my head in response. She walks further into the room and stands by the piano. With her eyes closed, she slowly turns around. When she stops, she opens her eyes and shrugs. "Sorry, Christian, I don't feel a thing."

"That's okay. I really didn't expect that you would."

"Are you going to stay here to see if she shows up?"

"I think so. For a few minutes, at least."

She yawns. "All right then, I'll head back to bed. Good luck!" She gives me a kiss before leaving the music room.

And now I'm all alone here. I'd like to play the piano but I won't because I don't want to disturb my family's sleep. Checking the magazine rack, I pull out a copy of Sports Illustrated, turn on a lamp, and settle on the couch to read about the upcoming football season.

Next thing I know, I'm feeling a dull ache in the small of my back; I fell asleep in a rather awkward position. The clock on the wall shows 4:45. So I had no contact from my hallucination. Did Anastasia really scare her off? Like everything else about this whole situation, it just makes no fucking sense. I get off the couch and turn off the lamp. Before I leave the room I take a last look around and that's when I notice the keyboard cover is up. Damn, will this shit never end?

* * *

I've had my run and I'm eating my breakfast while trying to feed Teddy his when Anastasia shows up at the breakfast bar. It's later than usual for her but seeing as her sleep was interrupted, it's understandable.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I tease her as Gail sets her plate down.

"Well, maybe I'd have been down here earlier if my husband had come back to bed like he said he would."

Whoa! Where'd the attitude come from? This isn't like her.

"Sorry, babe, I fell asleep on the couch. By the time I woke up, I figured I may as well get my run out of the way. I didn't want to wake you when I changed to my workout clothes."

"Okay." She doesn't seem too happy with my explanation but at least she's eating her breakfast, unlike our son.

"Are you seeing Flynn today?" she asks.

"I am. Do you want to join me? He might be interested in your take on all this."

"Not this time, maybe next week. Do you plan to tell him about last night and this morning?" Her tone is almost accusatory.

"Of course. That's the whole point of seeing him." What is going on with her?

"Christian, Teddy's wearing his food instead of eating it. Why don't I feed him?" She moves to take over from me but I stop her.

"Relax. Eat your breakfast. I got this." Although by the looks of Teddy, it doesn't really seem like it.

"Fine." She slams her fork on the table and gets up. "Actually, I'm not really hungry right now. I'm going in early. I'll call you later this morning." She comes over and gives me a perfunctory kiss, then gives Teddy a much warmer one, being careful not to get baby food on her clothes.

As she stalks out of the kitchen, Gail and I look at each other in puzzlement; she shrugs her shoulders. I return to trying to coax breakfast into my son. He's not even interested in the airplane game. My own breakfast has gotten cold and doesn't look very appetizing anymore. Has my whole family gone off their feed? In spite of my issues with wasted food, I decide to leave it and get ready for work. I hand off Teddy to Gail and head upstairs.

After stripping out of my workout clothes in the bathroom, I go over to the toilet to take a leak before my shower. And that's when I see why Ana was so unhappy at breakfast. Sitting on top of the counter is a box of tampons.

Shit.


	8. We Can Work It Out

All the way to work I think about Ana's mood this morning. We've only been trying for a little over a week; it's unrealistic to expect results so soon. If she starts obsessing about this it will only make matters worse. Maybe I should insist that she accompany me to my session with Flynn today. That might backfire, though, since whenever I try to coerce her into something she doesn't want to do she usually digs in her heels and becomes more obstinate. The funny thing is that I'm surprised at how disappointed I felt when I saw that box of tampons.

My worries prove baseless, however, when I get a call from her midmorning. She's crying and apologetic and I do my best to soothe her, trying to convince her that she's not infertile and that she's not a failure as a woman or as a wife. I'm pleasantly surprised when, without my bringing it up, she asks me if she can go with me to see Flynn. I suggest lunch at the club first and she agrees to meet me there.

When she comes into the private room Andrea booked I can tell she's still upset. Except for a brief time before and after Teddy was born, Ana's never been very hormonal. No matter where she is in her cycle, her moods have always been pretty much on an even keel. I can only chalk up this change to distress at not being pregnant.

"Hey, baby, how are you doing?" As she comes to the table, I stand up and give her a hug and a kiss.

"I'll be okay," she answers, as I pull out her chair and she sits. "I just can't believe how depressed I got when my period showed up this morning. It was like my world fell apart."

We're interrupted by the waiter. "Mind if I order for us?" I ask her and she waves her hand to give me the go-ahead. I tell him we'll both have the salmon en croute with duchess potatoes and the salad niçoise. I'd ordered San Pellegrino when I got here and he pours our glasses for us before disappearing with our order.

I look at her and take a deep breath. I'm treading lightly here since the last thing I want to do is trivialize her feelings. "I'm disappointed, too, but really, it's way too early to expect results. We've only been trying for about a week!"

"I know, it's just that I got pregnant so easily with Teddy, I thought for sure it would happen right away."

"It'll happen, baby, just relax. So you still want to go with me to see Flynn?" I ask her.

"I do," she replies. "I think you're still a little too skeptical about what's going on. I'd also like to hear firsthand what his views are on this sort of thing."

"He was rather noncommittal last week but we were working from the premise that these are hallucinations. I doubt that he watches Ghost Hunters or the Long Island Medium but I think he'll probably have an open mind."

"Well, a lot more has happened since last week so I'm hoping he has a _very_ open mind."

"Just so you know, I did tell him we're trying for another baby." She looks surprised and I hasten to reassure her. "I think he was a little shocked but he seemed genuinely happy about it."

"You didn't tell me that last week when you described your session with him." She sounds a little miffed.

"It slipped my mind. You were rather upset when I told you I'd seen him and you and I went off on a tangent. Really, I totally forgot about it." It's hard to tell but I think she's mollified. I change the topic and we talk about work and our schedules for the week.

Our meals arrive and we discuss our session with Flynn. I want to make sure we remember everything that's happened since I saw him last week. Ana thinks it's important to mention Taylor's conversations with the previous owners and the fact that nothing happened to me when we were at Escala over the weekend. I've also brought the notepad with my handwritten account of what happened yesterday morning.

There's plenty of time after we finish our lunch so instead of heading back to our respective offices we decide to take a leisurely walk to Flynn's office. It's a beautiful day and it feels so good to be strolling along, holding hands with my beautiful wife. It's so fucking _normal_, too; she's alive, I'm alive, no ghosts or hallucinations or apparitions. I only wish Teddy could be here with us.

Flynn was prompt, as usual, and Ana and I have taken our time recounting our experiences, all the way up to her reaction this morning to getting her period. He's interrupted us from time to time, for clarification or to make comments. Once we finished, his first response was to Ana, reassuring her that conception doesn't always happen quickly and can take up to several months. I think she's feeling more relaxed about it but I won't know for sure until later, when we're by ourselves.

We then discuss the whole paranormal aspect of these events. Much to Ana's relief, Flynn is completely open to the possibility that this could indeed be a visitor from beyond the grave.

"Freud and Jung," he says, "both investigated the paranormal. And I've heard too many things from my patients to completely disregard the idea that these things happen. But what I'd like to focus on right now is your reaction, Christian. In spite of your belief that these apparitions are mainly from your imagination, you seemed to respond quite strongly. Why do you think that is?"

Oh, boy, here we go with the psych-speak. Ana pipes up, "Christian, if you like, I can wait outside or go back to the office so you can discuss this with John by yourself."

"No, stay here, please. I'm not going to say anything I don't want you to hear." I turn to John. "Whether this is real or my imagination, I guess I'm pissed that she shows up now. Things are going well for us; I don't need this shitty drama in our lives. She said she's trying to make amends. If she'd been any decent kind of mother to me twenty-six or -seven years ago, she wouldn't need to make amends now. Maybe it's having a son of my own, seeing him so innocent and helpless, that makes me angry that someone who was supposed to protect me subjected me to the horrors she did."

"Fatherhood can change a man that way," John remarks. "According to my notes, she mentioned that 'he's alive.' Do you have any idea what she's talking about?"

"No clue. Could be her pimp, could be my birth father, Elena's ex-husband, could be anyone."

"Hmm, of course I haven't heard her the way you have but it seems like she's giving you some kind of warning. Have you felt like you're in any kind of danger lately?"

I shake my head while thinking about my answer. After a moment I tell him, "No, not any more than usual. I've been a target ever since my wealth reached a certain point, which is why I have my security team. But as far as I know, there are no imminent threats to any of us. I'll make a note to ask Taylor but I haven't seen or felt anything out of the ordinary."

"Okay, then. It seems that these events are growing more vivid. I'm glad you took notes. If you don't mind, I'd like a copy of them for your file."

"No, not at all," I say as I hand him my notepad. He takes it and calls his receptionist to make copies. While she's doing that he starts wrapping up the session. "I think that whether these phenomena are a function of your mental state or are really paranormal events, you should proceed as you've been doing. Keep journaling and keep on engaging with whatever this is. On the chance that this really is your birth mother, you may find answers to questions you didn't even know you had. Keep an open mind, Christian, just like your wife." He gives her a wink and she smiles back at him.

"It's easy for her to say," I state, looking back at him, "She's not the one going through this." Turning to her, I ask, "How would you feel if your birth father showed up in the middle of the night wanting to talk to you?"

Her smile is gone in an instant. "I'd give almost anything to talk to my birth father," she whispers, "If this really is Ella, I think you're very fortunate, Christian." I can see her eyes start to well up and I'm about to reach over to hug her when the receptionist knocks on the door. She's got Flynn's copies of my notes. He takes them from her and hands me back my notepad.

"Unless I hear from you before then, we'll meet again next week," he says as Ana and I stand up. We shake hands and leave. Downstairs, Taylor's waiting and after some discussion, we have him take us both home. On the way there, I ask her how she's feeling about not being pregnant. She reassures me that she's okay and to prove it, she crawls on my lap and we make out like teenagers until we're in the driveway of the house.

Once inside, we check on Teddy and tell Gail when to have dinner ready. Since we've been away from work all afternoon, we decide to check in, so she heads to her office and I to mine. There aren't any major crises for me but plenty of issues to manage and direct people on. There's an upcoming deal that may mean a lengthy trip to South Africa for me. I don't really want to go but if I do, I'll find a way to bring Anastasia there for at least some of the time.

Dinner is a beautifully serene affair on the terrace. The weather's perfect and Teddy's babbling happily in his high chair while Ana and I take turns feeding him. When we're finished with our meals, we leave the dishes for Gail and head for the trail down on the coast. It's a lovely evening, much like when I walked here last week. Ana and I walk hand in hand while Teddy bumps along in his carrier on my chest. I purposely avoid looking at the cliff on the way back, not wanting any specters from the past to ruin these precious moments.

When we get back to the house we put Teddy to bed and then head to our room to get ready for bed ourselves. I'm in my shorts, standing at the sink in our bathroom, brushing my teeth, when naked Ana comes up behind me, puts her arms around me, and starts gently stroking my chest. Hmmm, what's this about?

"Christian?" she murmurs softly.

"Yeah, baby?" I reply with a mouth full of toothpaste and bubbles.

"Remember that night in the hotel in Savannah?" Is she thinking what I think she's thinking? Just in case she is, Mr. Happy starts getting ready to make an appearance. I finish brushing, then turn around to face her, wrapping my arms around her and cupping her buns.

"I'll never forget it. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about it…" she answers coyly, running her fingers through my chest hair and looking up at me with beautiful blue eyes. There's a hint of a smile on her face and Mr. Happy is now standing at full attention.

"I see. Well, Mrs. Grey, history has a way of repeating itself." I walk around behind her and take her little hands in mine. "I remember how uncomfortable you were with your nakedness." I place her hands on her tummy; she's watching them with a sultry look in her eyes. "I love the fact that you're so comfortable with it now." I start moving her hands, the left one down to her little mound of hair, the right one up to her left tit, squeezing the nipple just a little. A slight moan escapes her lips. I nuzzle her neck, just below her right ear, flicking my tongue lightly against her skin. I slowly move her hands so their positions are switched and move my head so I'm nuzzling her neck on the left side. Mr. Happy is trying to work his way out of his cotton prison, stimulated by his contact with Ana's luscious derriere.

After a couple minutes of stroking and watching ourselves in the mirror, I take her hands and place them on the edge of the counter. "You know what to do, baby," I tell her and she grips the edge firmly. I take her hips and pull them back until she's bent over. Stepping out of my shorts, I spread her legs far apart. Just like that night in Georgia, I reach between her folds, find the tampon string, and gently tug it out, then throw it in the toilet.

Positioning myself just right, I gradually guide my cock inside her. Oh sweet lord, she feels so good! I start with slow deliberate strokes and reach down so I can gently caress her clit. Her moaning intensifies and I pick up my pace. I ever so subtly increase the pressure on her with my hand and I start to feel the quivering in her hips that I'm so familiar with, that I love. She starts breathing in little gasps and I know it's close, both for her and me.

Finally, I feel her pussy grab my cock as she shudders and shouts, "Christian!" and I follow her down that sweet tumultuous path, spilling myself into her. We last through a couple more thrusts, then collapse on the floor as one, my dick pulling out of her, spilling semen and blood and moisture down our legs and onto the tiles. I lean back against the closest thing, which happens to be the bidet, and we wrap our arms around each other.

"Hard to believe that was over two years ago," she whispers.

"I was just going to say the same thing," I whisper back, chuckling. "Would you like to take a bath together like last time?"

"A bath would take too long to run, how about a shower instead?" she replies as she looks up at me.

"A shower it is, then." We struggle to our feet and walk over to the stall.

The shower was quick and we're in bed, spooning. It's been an emotionally exhausting day and I have the uneasy feeling that there will be many more just as exhausting in the near future. But as long as I have Anastasia and Teddy, we'll get through them.

"Christian?" she murmurs sleepily.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Anastasia."


	9. Mother and Child Reunion

I'm awake before I hear the notes.

_Middle C, G_

_Christian!_

The alarm clock says 2:30, no surprise there. She's nothing if not punctual.

_Christian!_

I'm tempted to cry, "Coming, mother!" but refrain, mainly because I don't want to wake Anastasia but also because I can't relate to this specter / hallucination / whatever it is, as my mother.

_Christian!_

Now I'm getting irritated so I take my time putting on pajama pants and a t-shirt. I'm a grown man, a husband and father, the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. If this really is my mother returned from the grave, she lost the right to boss me around twenty-six years ago.

These thoughts occupy my mind as I pad across the balcony and down the stairs. By the time I get to the music room I've worked myself up into a lather. When I enter, she's not standing by the window and it throws me a little off my game.

_Christian!_

I look around the room and finally see her sitting on the couch. Even though it's dark, there's enough light from the windows to illuminate the white gown she's wearing. Hoping that she'll disappear, I walk over and turn on a lamp but she's still there. Just like the other evening, I'm struck by her beauty.

_Come sit by me, baby boy._

"No!" The vehemence of my response shocks me. I'm repulsed and fascinated by her at the same time. I don't want to be near her but I've finally realized that I really do need to hear what she has to say. After closing the door to reduce the likelihood of being disturbed (or disturbing others), I sit on the piano bench; it's close enough to observe her and far enough away that she can't reach out and touch me. Since she seems to be speaking through my mind, distance doesn't matter in terms of hearing her.

"What do you want from me?" My tone of voice is still sharp and I can tell that it upsets her. I've spent a good part of my life learning to read people and it seems I can do that even if they're dead. I'm rather pleased by this.

_I don't want anything from you, Christian. I've been trying to tell you, I'm here to warn you._

"Are you able to use your voice?" I interrupt.

_I don't know, I haven't tried._

"Would you try, please? I find it very annoying to hear your voice buzzing in my head."

"Is this better? Can you hear me?"

Better? I'm not sure. The sound of her voice is quite disconcerting, more so than when I heard it in my head. It brings back memories of her; it's familiar but more intense than I remember. Like her face, it's beautiful, with a lilting, musical timbre. Ironically, I'm speechless.

"Christian? Are you all right?"

I start to answer her but have to stop and clear my throat. The effect her voice has on me is so unexpected. I'm mesmerized, almost like when she touched me with her hand the other night, but without the bad memories. In fact, it's quite pleasant.

"Yes, I'm fine," I finally manage to stammer. "What's this all about?" I can't keep the harshness out of my voice, not that I'm really trying to. I could be sleeping in my nice soft bed next to my beautiful wife, not sitting on a hard piano bench listening to some ghost.

"Have you heard me tell you he's alive?"

"Yes," I reply, "Who's 'he'?"

"'He' is your birth father."

So there it is. I think back to my last session with Flynn when we speculated on the man she was warning me about. And now I know.

"Fine, he's alive. Why are you telling me this?" The pleasant effect of her voice is wearing off.

"Because he's coming after you, Christian."

I snort. "Coming after me? For what?"

"I'm fairly certain it's money. He's led a pretty miserable existence and he recently found out about his relationship to you."

The questions start piling up in my brain and I spill them out, "How do you know this? Why are you telling me? What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know how I know, Christian; I only know that I can see things that affect you, and your birth father's life is one of those things. It's different here on the other side; I don't always understand how everything happens. As to why I'm telling you, I tried to tell you the other day, I need to make amends for the horrible way I took care of you."

"Took care of me?" I interrupt. I'm starting to get angry; the memories are coming back and seeing her sitting there only fuels my rage. "You call this taking care of me?" I lift my tshirt and show her my bare chest. Standing up, I walk over to her and yell, "Look at what your 'care' did to me! Look at the marks your 'care' left on me!" She turns her head and it increases my fury. "LOOK AT THEM!" I scream.

"I'm so sorry, Christian," she whispers, looking up at me.

"SORRY?!" I yell and turn around, showing her my bare back. "Will 'sorry' take these away?! Will it, _mommy_!? Will 'sorry' take away the memories of starving in that stinkhole?" I yank my shirt back down and go back to the piano bench. Sitting down and putting my head in my hands, I try to control myself. The rage I feel is starting to scare me. I would like nothing more than to put my hands around her neck and strangle her but obviously that would accomplish nothing – she's already dead.

And just like that, I start to giggle. This whole thing is so fucking absurd. I want to kill a ghost! _I could kill you_, I think to myself, _oops, sorry, you're already dead!_ And I break out in a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Christian, are you okay?" For some reason, this sets off even more laughter. I struggle to get myself under control but it's difficult. After a minute or so, I take a couple of deep breaths and feel the resentment return.

"Your concern is very touching, _mommy_," I sneer, "Where was all that concern twenty-six or twenty-seven years ago?"

"I know, Christian, I know. Believe me, if I could turn back the clock and redo everything there is so much that I would change. I will never be able to erase the pain I caused you. But I'm being given a chance here – why, I don't know – but I'm doing whatever I can to protect you now."

"And just how are you going to do that, _mommy_?" I can't keep the acid out of my voice. All traces of laughter are gone and my anger is building again. "Do you have some supernatural powers, like maybe you can swoop down and strike him dead? Or make yourself a shield between him and me? Tell me, how will you protect your little boy, _mommy_?"

"Please let me speak, son. I know you're finding all of this hard to believe. Like I keep saying, I don't understand all of it myself."

I don't know if she's using her voice to calm me down or if I'm finally able to control my emotions again but I'm feeling less agitated. The resentment is still there but at least now I'm able to keep it below the surface.

"All right, then," I tell her, "You can have your say and then you can leave me alone. I'm listening." I cross my legs and clasp my hands over my knees, hoping that by assuming a relaxed pose my inner turmoil will diminish. If ever there were a time to use my impassive face, this is it.

"How much do you know of your birth family?"

The question is unexpected and I take my time answering it. "Not much, really. I only remember you, no one else. Grace, my _real_ mom, probably has more information but I never bothered to ask her about it. I found out shortly after I got married that when my parents wanted to adopt me they had to wait two months to see if any living relatives wanted to claim me. Obviously, none of them did. What does this have to do with anything?"

"I need to make you understand some things about your birth father. This way you'll be better prepared to deal with him when you meet him."

"What makes you think I'll meet him? If he's after me like you think he is, wouldn't he have shown his face to me by now?"

"I know he's in the Seattle area, Christian, and I know what kind of man he is. Not just from my relationship with him but I've been allowed to see how his life unfolded from the time I left him. Don't underestimate him. If he hasn't contacted you yet, there's probably a reason for it."

"Look, I pay beaucoup bucks for state of the art security systems and top notch security staff. If there's any threat to me or my family, I'm confident that they'll take care of it."

"You don't understand. He's very good at taking advantage of people's vulnerabilities. He can be very charming if it serves his purpose." She lowers her eyes and almost whispers, "That's how you came to be."

All of a sudden I'm feeling rather uncomfortable. I mean, even if she is a hallucination, do I really want to know about my conception?

"I really think you should know the whole story," she says, almost as if she's read my mind. And now it becomes very important to me to know if she can or not.

"Can you read my mind?"

She's taken aback by the question. "No, no, I can't," she answers, "I can speak into it, it seems, but I can't tell at all what you're thinking. It's one way telepathy."

"Okay, I was just curious. Do go on with your story," I tell her; I'm the epitome of politeness.

"We met in high school. I knew who he was but he never paid attention to me until we were in a couple classes together our senior year. He had a rep for being the love 'em and leave 'em type so when he zeroed in on me I brushed him off but he was persistent. Like I said, he's very good about getting his way.

"I agreed to go to the homecoming dance with him and after that, we became a steady couple. He was one of the popular guys and me, while I'd dated some, I was never part of the cool crowd. He changed all that. Besides being tall and good-looking, he had a really great band that actually played a lot of gigs in the area. He found out that I liked to sing and when he heard me, he asked me to join them. From then on, rehearsing and performing with his band was the basis of our relationship.

"He was ambitious and wanted to make a career in music but he knew how tough it could be so he decided to study business. Both of us applied to Michigan and Michigan State. We'd go with whichever school offered the best deal to at least one of us and that turned out to be Michigan – they offered him a half scholarship. That summer after graduation was the best time of my life. We rehearsed and performed and partied.

"It all came crashing down that first semester in Ann Arbor. It started out great – we were all excited about our classes and living away from home. We got together with the band about twice a month. And then I got pregnant. It was such a shock to us since we'd always been so careful.

"We finished the semester, then went back home to Detroit and got married. His dad got him a job at the GM assembly plant and I got a job at a fast food restaurant. We did all right but everything changed and not for the better. Now that we were back home and working, his dream of a career in music seemed so unreachable. We tried to rehearse a couple nights a week but it was tough – we were both so tired after working all day. Plus the dynamics had all changed.

"We lived with his parents and that made it even tougher. They made it clear that we'd fucked up and they mostly blamed me. I couldn't wait until we were on our own but that didn't happen until over a year after you were born.

"Once we got our own apartment, things didn't improve as much as I'd hoped. Money was always tight. My dad wasn't well and couldn't help us. His parents helped whenever they could but that wasn't very often. Mostly his mom helped by taking care of you when we needed her. Your father and I worked opposite shifts so someone was always home with you but there were times when he or I needed to work overtime so we'd call her to watch you. My mom had passed when I was eight so my in-laws were our only resource.

"Of course, once you were born there was even less time for the band and your father's moods got worse and worse. He started blaming me for everything that was wrong in our lives and he grew more distant from you. That hurt so much. You were such a beautiful baby and hardly any trouble. Like I said, he stayed with you when I was working but I'd come home and find you crying and your diaper soiled. He didn't hear because he was singing and playing his guitar so loudly. Or he'd be sleeping.

"He became verbally abusive. Then they had layoffs at the plant and he was one of them. It got worse and worse after that. He hit me a couple times and I started worrying that he'd hurt you. I couldn't move in with my dad and whenever I brought it up to his parents they said it was all my fault, that I'd made my bed and I should lie in it.

"He looked for a job halfheartedly. Most of the time he played music and smoked weed or drank. He was drawing unemployment but that didn't make up for his salary and we were barely making a living.

"The final straw was when I came home from work and found him in bed with the new singer they got for the band after I dropped out. I remember the music blaring so loud that I heard it from the street. You were screaming your lungs out. From that point on, I could never hear AC/DC without thinking of that night.

"I packed you up right away and left. I had no idea where I was going but I wasn't going to stay with him any longer. We ended up in a motel near the airport. What hurt was that he didn't even come looking for us. It was like we were baggage that he was glad to get rid of.

"I struggled to make ends meet, leaving you in a cheap daycare while I worked. We stayed in that roach-infested motel until I found a small basement apartment that wasn't much better but it was cheaper. The couple who owned the place was nice but they weren't that much better off financially than me so repairs went unmade. But she did watch you while I worked so that helped. And then I met the man who changed our lives." She stops and sighs.

In spite of myself, I've been enthralled by her narrative. And now my stomach sinks because I'm pretty sure who the man is that she's going to talk about. I'm bracing myself for it when there's a knock at the door.

"Mr. Grey?" Shit, it's Taylor. I look at the door in annoyance and when I look back, she's gone. Fuck!


End file.
